Page 69 of Ladybirds

“Absolutely. Someone ought to encourage you to have better taste.”

Her birthday is in eleven days. She almost wants to get that kind of cake just to tease him, but the thought quickly sours. Jen and Miles have already planned something for her, a small get together at their place, to celebrate. She knows Seth will be there too, but suddenly the difference between being there and being part of it, is painfully clear.

She decides on chocolate.

Jen makes it from scratch (because of course she does) and Miles lights the candles. Sara has a ridiculous plastic crown on her head. The tines keep getting caught in her hair, but Jen whines every time she tries to take it off. Leaning against the wall, Seth’s grin is equal parts infectious and irritating. She knows what he’s thinking before he even says it, but it hardly stops him. “I must say, that crown is rather fetching on you, Princess.”

She can’t tell him to shut up, but she’s sure her glower gets her point across.

“Alright,” Jen says, smiling wide as she dims the lights. “Let’s get this party started!”

They sing “Happy Birthday” (Jen is off key, but Miles is annoyingly good) as they set the cake in front of her. Jen has decorated the top with her loopy handwriting and clusters of strawberries. When they finish, Jen claps her hands and reminds her to make a wish. As if Sara doesn’t know, as if she hasn’t had one in mind for a little over a week now.

Sara takes a deep breath, meets Seth’s eyes, and holds the wish against her heart long enough for her lungs to burn. Then she blows out the candles. Miles and Jen cheer, but Seth is still—his eyes knowing and a little sad.

She can see the admonishment there, brimming around his irises. Birthday wishes don’t break curses, Princess.

And in that moment, between one breath and the next, Sara feels her hopes break. There’s shards of it, splintered and sharp like glass, stuck in her throat, but she swallows it down. Tempers it with heat and determination until it melts and cools into something new. Something stronger.

Wishes won’t save him, but she will.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Summer is her favorite time of year.

Iowa comes alive in the warmer months. Corn grows, reaching tall and swaying, along the highways in rows just begging to get lost in. The fields turn dry and golden, as warm as the sun kissing her freckled shoulders. She sighs, content, as she lays back onto the quilt she’s laid out.

They’re miles from the city, tucked away from the trails and any wayward hikers. Her camera sits beside her, just in case, as she stares up at the clouds. “When’s your birthday?”

It’s been bothering her for a bit now—ever since she celebrated her own over a month ago—but she could never really bring herself to ask until this moment. He’s been part of her life for a year now, give or take. Knowing that his own birthday must have come and gone, unrecognized and uncelebrated, makes her heart ache.

Seth gives an aggravated sigh. It takes her a moment to realize it’s because her question forces an answer. “The sixth of October.”

Sara frowns, sitting up on her elbows. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

His eyebrows rise, a picture of skepticism and amusement. “As I recall, you were still rather preoccupied with hating me at the time.”

Sara flounders. “Oh.” It feels so long since she’s hated him. She tries to pinpoint when things began to change… when she started to see him as a man instead of a monster. A blessing instead of a curse. It’s all so impossibly tangled up, but she knows one thing for certain. “I didn’t hate you.”

The look he gives is full of skepticism. Sara rolls her eyes. “Not by then, anyway.”

He hardly looks convinced. “Is that so?”

“It is,” she says, trying (and failing) to match his fancy accent.

His grin is wide enough to make his cheeks dimple and eyes crinkle in the corners. Sara wishes he would smile like that more often. “Your impression is atrocious. How do you manage that so terribly when there’s only two words?”

“I don’t think you get to judge after that butchering of my generation’s slang.”

Seth waves a hand dismissively. “That was in fun. I wasn’t actually trying.” He tilts his head, eyes gleaming. “Is this American enough?” he teases, all traces of his accent gone.

“You can ditch your accent?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I didn’t lose it. I adopted yours.”

“I don’t have an accent!”

“Everyone has an accent, Princess.” He taps a finger against his ear. “Just because your ear is deaf to it, doesn’t mean it’s not there.”

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